Afterwards
by LilyValleyVeil
Summary: After the fade to black in the cutscene before the Omega-4 relay, it's pretty easy imagine what happened. But what might have happened after that?


Afterwards, they lay in bed, Garrus cradling Shepard in his arms, her back pressed close against his chest.

She was drifting in and out of consciousness, enjoying the warmth and the tactile sensation of the Turian's thick plates against her skin, when she heard Garrus speak.

He did have such a lovely voice, she thought, so deep and resonant; she closed her eyes and let it was over her, only remembering to tune in to what he was actually _saying_ in time to hear "…you were beautiful."

She turned onto her other side, so they were facing each other, and said "'m sorry, Garrus…what was that?"

He smiled and said, "I remember the first time I realized you were beautiful."

"How's that?" she said, quirking her eyebrow at him, a teasing tone in her voice.

He took her seriously, as he always did. "I've never been attracted to humans—wait, that came out badly. I mean, I've never really found humans attractive—wait, that was worse. Even humans like Miranda, who's evidently been genetically engineered to be attractive, but…Oh, hell, Shepard…"

She decided to let him off the hook. She said "Keep digging, Garrus; one day you'll get to China," and grinned at him.

"Hm?" he said, mercifully distracted from trying to start the story right.

She smiled and said, "Just an old Earth saying. I know you Turians don't really understand our crazy moon language."

"Moon?" he said. "I thought the human homeworld was called Earth."

Shepard laughed, deep and throaty, and Garrus got belatedly that he'd taken her teasing seriously yet again. As always, he'd stumbled right into it, but he'd do it again and again, say a thousand stupid things, if it meant he'd get to hear her laugh like that.

"Relax, Garrus," she said, her hand lightly tracing the scars on his face. "Tell me what you were about to tell me before I started making fun of you."

"Well," he said, "as I was saying, I remember the first time I realized you were beautiful."

He paused, waiting for her to grin and say something sarcastic…almost wanting her to, because if she laughed at this memory, or teased him about it, he might just roll over and die right there without even getting a chance to follow her yet again into some suicidal situation where the odds were so high against them that not even a volus would place a bet on Shepard's team coming out on top.

But she only looked at him with kind eyes, clear and blue and open.

He cleared his throat and continued. "What I meant was, I'd never really thought of humans that way…never thought you as a race were particularly ugly, or attractive; you were just _humans_, not Turians, and the individual faces were all hard for me to tell apart."

He paused. "Then you died, and I knew I'd never see your face again, except maybe in dreams." Deep breath. "And it wasn't until I saw you alive, back on Omega, that I noticed how beautiful _your_ particular face was."

"They called me the Archangel," he said, "but you seemed like a real angel to me; some…otherworldly creature, so proud and regal and strong, coming across that bridge. I'd chosen that place to die, and I thought…I thought you'd come back to take me away. And you did, but it was even better than the good death that was waiting for me; I got to be alive with you again."

He was so afraid she'd laugh, but she only ran her hand along his scars again, and looked at him and said, "Thank you, Garrus. Thank you for telling me, and thank you for thinking I'm beautiful."

They were quiet a little while, and then he thought that he'd come so far that he might as well tell her everything

"Shepard," he started, but she cut him off and said, "It's Jane now. Just Jane. Tomorrow I'll be Shepard again, but here…tonight…I want to hear you say my name."

"All right, then, Just Jane," he said, and she laughed and said, "Holy Mary Mother of God, Garrus, I think you just made a joke."

He closed his eyes and savored the sound of her laugh. Then he started again.

"Jane," he said. "Beautiful Jane. May I tell you about the first time I realized I loved you?"

She'd started when he said "loved," and he'd sensed her surprise and thought for a moment he'd made a terrible mistake, and then she relaxed into him again with a deep sigh of contentment.

"Say it again, Garrus," she said. "I want to hear you say that, too, tonight…and for as many nights as we're both alive from now on," and she grinned and said, "which may not be all that many, so you better say it now."

"I love you, Jane," he said. Once he'd said it, it came so easily to his lips. "I love you, I love you, I love you," he said, as he drew her closer and whispered it in her ear.

He paused, drew back his head, and looked at her. Her eyes were closed, and then she opened them and said, "I love you, too," and he couldn't hear anything for a few minutes because it felt like his heart had stopped beating in his chest, to hear this angel say those words to him.

"Tell me, Garrus," she said. "Tell me when you first realized you loved me."

He said, "Oddly enough, it wasn't when you died," and she burst out laughing and said, "Okay, that's number one on the list of Sentences You Never Thought You'd Hear."

Again, that lovely laugh. He started again, "…it wasn't when you died. I'd always cared…deeply…for you, but I wouldn't admit that I loved you, even to myself. It was ridiculous, I thought, a Turian loving a human, and you were my commander, and you'd never feel that way about me anyway, and then you were _dead_."

"You were dead," he said, the bleak tone so stark and raw that it seemed like winter had entered their bed.

He spoke again. "I realized I loved you when we were on Horizon, when we were under fire…remember?"

She said, "Well, Garrus, we were under fire a _lot_ on Horizon. You'll have to specify which time," and smiled so radiantly that he when he spoke again all the winter in his voice was gone, turned to spring, as young as she was.

"It was during the first wave of reinforcements while we were waiting for EDI to bring those damn defense towers on line. We were taking cover in the truck and Mordin was moving towards the Collectors and I looked down at you and thought "_that's odd, why is she back here, she's always in front,"_ right before I saw that you were gunning down the five thousand or so husks that were trying to get up the ramp into the truck and get at me."

"I remember that," she said. "I mean, obviously, I don't remember you thinking that, because, well, most of the time I have no idea what you're thinking, but I remember that. Although you're truly exaggerating my heroics." She paused. "Because I only recall, oh, a thousand husks or so."

He laughed, and she looked so pleased with her joke that he laughed again. "Well, whatever number it was, you shot until the clip ran out. You ducked down and turned to look at me and your face was all speckled with ash—you really do love that incendiary ammo, don't you?"

She grinned and said, "Just about as much as you love that sniper rifle."

He laughed and went on. "I saw that you'd gotten a cut on one cheek and rubbed it, so blood and ash were smeared down all one side of you face, and your hair was coming down, and you were smiling. You popped the old clip out and slammed a new one in, and you said, "_Just like old times,Garrus!"_ and laughed and went back to keeping those damn husks off me while I lined up my shots."

"That's when I had to admit it," he said. "I was…what's the expression? Heels over head?"

She laughed. "Other way around, darlin'."

"Ah. All right. Head over heels in love with you."

He lifted his hand and ran it gently through her hair, feeling the strands slip through his talons, lifting it and letting it fall.

She sighed softly, and he said, "Your hair is so lovely. I've never seen it down before."

"Not many have," she said. "I can't leave it down when I'm fighting, obviously, and it just seems more…businesslike to have it up when I'm not. Easier to take care of, too…just twist it up and go, no fussing. I mean, Jack's probably got the ultimate no-fuss hairstyle, but somehow I don't think that would be a good look for me."

"Although her outfit would be," he said. She raised one eyebrow and grinned.

Then the conversation lapsed for a moment or two, leaving them in a sweet, natural silence broken only by the sounds of deep, even breathing. They were so tired, the both of them, and they had every right to be, but it seemed a shame to waste even one moment of the time they had to them sleeping.

Garrus broke the silence by saying "It would have been purple."

"Huh?" she said. "Think I need some context there, G."

"There. On the Citadel. When I was chasing Sidonis."

"Okay, so we've got the context…now what the hell are you talking about?"

He exhaled deeply, then inhaled again. "Humans have red blood. Turians bleed blue. If I'd taken my shot—if my need for revenge had taken control…"

"Oh," she said.

"I have nightmares," he said, "nightmares now, where I pull the trigger anyway and damn myself, and I see you fallen on the floor with him, half your head gone, the bullet buried in his skull, and the blood beneath you both pooling and mixing until it's an obscene shade of purple."

She said, "But you didn't do it, Garrus. Underneath the scars his betrayal left, you stayed you. You didn't take the shot because you knew you'd lose something forever if you did, and I'm not talking about me. You would have lost the best part of yourself, forever. But you didn't shoot. You saved yourself. You saved me."

"I was afraid," she continued. "I'd bet my life on that best part of you, gambling that the sight of me in your scope would override the pain and rage. And I was afraid…but only a little, you understand? Only a little."

"Why only a little?" he asked.

She snorted. "Because, despite my seeming fondness for suicidal odds, I can assess risk properly. I had that little bit of fear, true, but I was reasonably sure—more than reasonably, maybe even ninety-nine percent sure—that you'd see what really mattered. And you couldn't see that with the rifle scope up to your eye."

He wrapped his arms around her tightly, and held her as closely as he could, trying to feel every inch of her flesh against his.

"You're right," he whispered. "I saw, thank the spirits—no, thanks to you. I saw what I was on the verge of becoming, and saw what I could be. You showed me the way."

"We're both of us killers," she whispered into his chest. "Killers, but not murderers. Sidonis…shooting him would have made you a murderer. And we both would have died that day."

He said nothing, only drew her closer, as close as he possibly could.

She returned his fierce embrace and then said, "Um…Garrus…could you possibly…ah…let go a little? I mean, I'm losing the ability to breathe here…"

He sprang back, guiltily. "Oh, no, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to hurt you—are you OK? Here, let me check," and he began to examine her ribs as he might have on the battlefield, checking for fractures, murmuring "sorry sorry sorry" as he did so.

He stopped when he realized she was shaking with barely-suppressed laughter, eyes squeezed shut. "Um…" he said, "what's…funny?"

She couldn't contain herself anymore; she broke down in a fit of hilarity, eyes streaming with tears, and every time she thought it might be over she looked at him, wearing an expression of utter confusion and outright shock, and started laughing again.

Finally, she took a breath, wiped the moisture from her face, and said, "Oh, that was quality comedy right there."

She had to take a break and laugh a little more, then.

He looked at her sternly. "Okay. Tell me. What was funny, Shepard?"

"First off, you practically shoved me out of bed and away from you because you were so afraid you'd hurt me, and, let's face it, you've seen me take a damn grenade to the chest and walk it off afterwards! So that was funny."

"What was also funny," she said, "was that you suddenly became Battlefield Garrus, like we were under fire from three different merc groups at once—not that that's ever happened—and you needed to make sure my ribs hadn't punched out a lung or something before we could move."

"And the third thing that was funny," she finished, "is that I am hideously ticklish along my ribs."

"Ticklish?" he said. "Oh…I see…that's what "ticklish" is…"

And then he deliberately drew one talon down the side of her ribcage, wiggling it a little and digging in just a small bit in the sensitive bit underneath her last rib.

Her reaction was supremely gratifying. She started laughing again, giggling and yelling "oh god, no, stop that, please, I can't breathe any more," and he started laughing too, and suddenly they were moving together, pressed close, one to the other, and he could smell her, sweet and musky, and she could feel him, hard against her thigh, and she rocked her hips back so he could enter her for the second time that night.

She was so wet, and so ready, and so hot around him that he had to bite back the urge to climax the moment he felt himself slip inside her. She moaned greedily and pulled his head close, stroking the back of his neck, his head, his fringe, while he put his hand on her hip and drew her close so they moved together, hearts racing, finding the perfect rhythm one more time, each taking strength from the other and giving it back in turn, until Shepard threw her head back and moaned and shuddered in climax, and Garrus joined her moments later.

The cabin went silent again, except for ragged breathing, slowing in time to rhythmic, slow, satisfied breaths.

Still joined, she smiled sleepily at him, and said "It's late." He rubbed one cheek against hers and—oh so gently—pulled out of her. She closed her eyes and sighed as he did, missing his presence inside her already.

Then, moving almost silently, gracefully as if they'd been doing this forever, they took turns in the bathroom; no showers, but drying off at least, splashing their faces with water. Shepard brushed her teeth and popped a few of the pills Mordin had given her to ward off anaphylactic shock; she turned to offer them to Garrus, and saw he was taking some from his own vial. Their eyes met and they shared a rueful smile, thinking back to their awkward conversations with the good doctor.

They lay down together, Garrus on his back and Shepard on her side, resting her head on his shoulder, her leg thrown over his. He stroked her hair; her fingertips slid lightly up and down his chest. She called for EDI to dim the lights; obediently, the cabin darkened, lit only by the soft blue glow from the aquarium on the wall.

She'd almost drifted off to sleep when his gentle voice pulled her back.

"Is it always like this, afterwards?" he said.

In a drowsy voice, she said "Only when it's with someone you love. Only when it seems like a miracle and you can't bear to let a second of it go; when you say serious things and silly things and everything is new and familiar all at once."

"Only when it's you, Garrus," she said.

He closed his eyes—in thanks, in prayer to something—and touched her gently on the forehead. She made a little noise and relaxed into sleep; he could tell by the way her breathing changed, and the care worn into her face slipped away.

When she was safely asleep, only then did he let himself drift.

He dreamed of her—angel, savior, human, lover.

And that's what happened, afterwards.


End file.
